It Was a Privilege to Love You
by sonicing-and-entering
Summary: The Doctor is distraught over the loss of Amy and Rory. Hazel is distraught over the loss of Augustus. What if the Doctor stumbled upon her? R/R would be much appreciated :)
1. Chapter 1

There hasn't been a moment that's gone by that I haven't thought of Augustus. And I suppose there never will be.

I was doing okay for a while right after. I mean, not great. But I would reread Gus's letter everyday, and I would read _The Price of Dawn_ when I was feeling down, and I was happy for Mom who was busy working on her degree. I would drive over to Isaac's sometimes and play video games in his basement. Once in a while we'd even jokingly suggest going to Support Group together for the hell of it, and then we'd show up for some lemonade and cookies and a dose of depression and inevitably, we'd walk out, Isaac clutching my arm, declaring we were never going back again. Everything reminded me of Augustus, from the Literal Heart of Jesus to whenever I made a phone call, but that was okay. I liked being reminded of him. I, for one, was going to make sure he wouldn't be forgotten for a while.

Phalanxifor was doing its job as good as it always had been, though I couldn't shake off the feeling that one of these days it was just going to dump me into that 70% of people of whom it didn't feel like stopping the growth of cancer cells in.

Anyway, one day I was sitting in my room, reading over Gus's letter and crying a bit, when Mom came in and asked me if I wanted to watch _America's Next Top Model_.

"No," I responded automatically.

"Hazel, you've been crying in your room for the past week. Please."

I looked up at her, at the wrinkles etched into her forehead that I hadn't quite noticed before, realizing that I had in fact been crying in my room the past week.

She came over to me and put her arm around me. "Hazel, I have something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" I asked nonchalantly, but I could feel my heart start to race.

"Hazel, I don't know how to tell you this," Mom began.

My heart was pounding now. "What is it? Did we get test results back or something?"

"No, no, it's not that," Mom said, drawing in a deep breath. "It's just that...well, next week, your dad has to go to Chicago on business, and well, I was going to go to a conference on social work there. So, you'd have to stay by yourself, Hazel, for a weekend. If you don't want to, though, just tell me and I'll stay home and-"

"Oh. That's fine," I replied, laughing with relief.

"Are you sure? If you need anything at all, Hazel, you can just call me and I'll be right home, okay? I'll make sure you have emergency numbers and the numbers for the doctor and I'll call you and check in every few hours, okay? And-"

"I'll be okay," I chuckled. "Really, Mom. I'm glad you're getting your degree, I really am. I hope you and Dad have a nice time in Chicago."

"I mean, or you can come with us if you'd rather, Hazel. I mean, your dad will be busy all day, and I guess you can come to the conference, but I'll mostly be listening to panels and speeches-"

"It's totally fine. I don't mind staying home. Really."

Mom sighed and stroked my cheek. "You sure, Hazel?"

"Positive."

*...*

After about eight phone numbers scrawled on a notepad, a dozen reminders to take my medicine, two dozen kisses on the cheek from Mom and Dad, and a call less than five minutes after they pulled out of the driveway, I was by myself on a Friday night. Which was a weird feeling, because I wasn't alone often.

We had already ate dinner, so I curled up in bed with a new book that I was reading, but I soon found myself with back with the familiar, worn cover of _An Imperial Affliction_ in my hands. I hadn't even touched it since I saw Peter Van Houten at Gus's funeral, but now I was reading Anna's story again, and the Dutch Tulip Man was back, except this time I wasn't wondering if he was a con man, I was thinking about Amsterdam and tasting the stars with Augustus, and I was thinking about kissing him in Anne Frank's house, and I was thinking about Peter Van Houten's eight-year-old daughter and then I was crying and thinking how it was a privilege to have my heart broken by Augustus and I just wanted him back and I wanted to call him and go to that special third space that we went to on the phone and-

-And then my phone did ring, and my heart leapt foolishly for a moment. But I cursed myself for my stupidity: it was Mom, of course. Had I just thought it could have been-?

"Hello?" I asked, wiping a hand across my eyes and choking back the sobs that were wracking my body.

"Hazel, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I gasped. "I'm fine, Mom."

"Hazel, you don't sound okay, are you sure-"

"Yes, Mom. I'm thinking about stuff, that's all. How's Chicago? Are you at your hotel?"

"Yes, it's really nice. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"No. I'm good. Just reading. I'm about to go to bed."

"Okay. Don't forget to take your medicine, honey."

"I already did."

"I love you, Hazel."

"Love you, Mom."

And that was that. I put_ AIA_ away and put my BiPap on and laid down and drifted off in memories of a canal-veined city raining white petals...

*...*

My eyes flew open. The first thing I noticed was that it darkness still pervaded my room, and the second thing I was aware of was a peculiar, faint whirring noise that seemed to be coming from outside.

I bolted upright. It repeated itself, louder. I shook my head, trying to clear the grogginess from my head. Unhooking myself from the BiPap, I stuck the nubbins of my oxygen tank into my nose, and peered out my window, but it was too dark to make anything out.

Brimming with curiosity, I rushed downstairs as fast as my sucky lungs could allow me, and when I launched myself onto the back porch I figured the last time I felt so winded was when I climbed the stairs at Anne Frank's house.

And that's when I saw it. Amidst my panting, I gazed up, and where my swing set used to be, the one that Augustus and I sold - a _telephone box._

What?

Mom went pretty crazy about the backyard some days, mowing the lawn countless times and clipping the bushes and perfecting the garden, but I was pretty sure she hadn't put up a telephone box for ornamentation.

And that's when - _the door opened_ - and someone stepped out. Gazing through the darkness, clutching the handle of my oxygen tank tighter, I watched the figure make its way towards me: not in a threatening way, but in a dazed sort of way; it seemed to be stumbling about, like a toddler trying out its feet for the first time.

I furrowed my brow as he approached, blundering across my yard. This was stupid, stupider than when my phone rang. The long limbs, the mahogany hair: a bit longer than I remembered it, flopping over his eye - it couldn't be, he was so much older now, but yet...

"Augustus?"


	2. Chapter 2

The figure froze in its tracks, its long bangs falling across its eyes.

"What'd you say?"

"Augustus?" I whispered.

He began to saunter forward, hands stuck in his pockets, and I clearly saw the outline of his face. My heart sank: it wasn't Augustus's familiar profile. The chin jutted out a bit too much, and upon closer study, it wasn't Augustus's cheeks or eyes, nor would Augustus ever show up in a tweed jacket and a bow tie.

"Who?" he asked.

"Who _are _you?" I gasped.

"Who are _you?_"

"What are you doing in my backyard?" I demanded.

I could see his face clearly now. He had an unkempt, raggedy appearance: it didn't look like he had combed his hair in days, his clothes were stained and dirty, even his bow tie was crumpled. His cheeks were sunken in. He looked exhausted, almost sickly, and I immediately felt guilty for using such a harsh tone.

The man wrinkled his forehead. "What? Where am I? What year is it?"

"What _year _is it? Are you all right, sir?"

"Do you mean to tell me - wait, you sound American. I'm surmising that this is _not _London in 2070."

I gaped at him, vaguely taking note of the British accent. "N-no, it's not." It occurred to me how Mom would have a panic attack if she knew I was talking to an insane man in the backyard in the middle of the night, and swore to myself never to breathe a word of this.

He pointed to my oxygen tank. "What d'you got there?"

"Helps me breathe. My lungs kind of suck."

"Brilliant." He sighed. "So where are we, then?"

"Indianapolis." I stared at him.

"Indianapolis, _Indiana?"_

"No. Indianapolis, Jupiter. Of course Indiana."

He raised his eyebrows - or lack thereof, there was just more forehead where his eyebrows should have been - "And the year?"

"2015."

"Damn it!" he shouted, kicking a rock in my yard. "Why can't I do anything right anymore?"

I could see his face clearly now, reflecting the glow of the light I had flicked on in the kitchen, and swore I could see tears glistening in the corner of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "What's your name?"

"Hazel," I replied. I swallowed, and then, in a whisper, "Hazel Grace."

"Hazel Grace," he proclaimed, the first person to call me that since Augustus, and I could feel tears stinging my eyes, too. "I'm the Doctor. Nice to meet you."

"The Doctor? I've seen a lot of doctors," I said quietly.

He smiled sadly, and his mouth twisted upwards in exactly the same way Augustus's had. "I bet you have, Hazel Grace."

And I will never know what compelled me to invite a complete stranger without a proper name into my house at one in the morning, but then I said, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

*...*

Somehow I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, and the Doctor was the one busying himself with the kettle on the stove.

"So, Hazel Grace," he said. "How'd you end up on your back porch in the middle of the night?"

"Wanted to see the stars, I suppose," I laughed. "How'd _you _end up in my backyard in the middle of the night, then? No. I heard a weird noise. Sort of like a grinding, whirring noise. You wouldn't happen to know what it was?"

He crinkled his brow. "Nope. Not a clue." A pause, and then, "Damn it, River _did _tell me how to work the brakes properly..."

"What are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all. So tell me about yourself, Hazel Grace."

"Well, let's see. I was diagnosed with cancer when I was thirteen. Thyroid with mets in my lungs."

"No, no, silly. Not_ that _stuff. The_ important_ stuff. About you," he interrupted.

I stared, and was reminded forcefully of the time when Augustus asked me about my _story_, specifically not my_ cancer story._

"Well," I started. "I'm Hazel - yeah, I said that. My parents are away for the weekend, and they spend most of their life freaking out about me. Um. I like poetry, though right now I'm not being very eloquent, and reading. I had this favorite book-"

It occurred to me how stupid I sounded, but the Doctor kept watching me intently, so I went on.

"I mean, It's still my favorite, but I met the author, and he was, well, a total asshole. I got to go to Amsterdam, with - with my friend. But - well, he's gone."

"Gone?" The Doctor's eyes widened slightly. "What d'you mean?"

"He died. His cancer came back. Eighty percent chance that it wouldn't and it did."

"Oh, Hazel Grace," the Doctor said, and somehow, he was next to me, and I was in his arms, crying into his shoulder, and it was the first time I'd properly cried about Gus in front of anyone except my parents.

But then the kettle commenced its shrill whistle, and the Doctor hopped back awkwardly and started opening all my cabinets, looking for mugs.

"Over there," I directed him, giggling.

So then we were sitting at the table, with our mugs of tea, the Doctor across from me. "Tell me about your friend," he told me, resting on his elbows, his hands buried into the sides of his mop of hair.

"Augustus," I began. "Uh, well, I met him at this stupid Cancer Support Group my parents made me go to. He was amazing, and funny, and smart. He only had one leg because of cancer. He gave me these books to read - about a video game - not what I'd normally read, but I liked them because they were about this guy who kept having adventures. And Augustus and I, well, we had adventures. I gave him my favorite book, and we used his Cancer Perk to go to Amsterdam and meet the author - who I already said was an drunk asshole-"

The Doctor chuckled. "Don't you hate it when people don't turn out how you expect them to be? Julius Caesar and Edgar Allen Poe were right little twats-"

"Sorry, _what?_"

"Never mind, continue."

"Anyway, we had a really nice time in Amsterdam. It was amazing, there. We drank champagne and went to Anne Frank's house and well, yeah. But before we left he told me - well, that his cancer had come back. And so I watched him deteriorate. It was awful, watching him die. He feared oblivion. He always wanted to do something important, leave a mark, and I had to watch him not only physically waste away, but watch him leave knowing he hadn't anything in this world. But it was a privilege to have my heart broken by him. It really was."

There was no mistaking the stream of tears flowing down the Doctor's hollow cheeks now.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are - are you okay?" I stammered. "I'm sorry."

He undid his bowtie in a few swift motions, wiped his face quickly with the scrap of cloth, and tugged it around his neck again. "Absolutely fine. Go on."

I always thought I could talk about Augustus forever, but I suddenly found that I didn't have any more to say. "That's all."

"Hazel Grace," the Doctor started. "Don't you _ever _say that your friend didn't do anything in this world."

"I mean, he _did _things. He - he played basketball. But he didn't leave his mark, and that killed him."

"Football's better," the Doctor mumbled. "Soccer, I believe you would say. But now, listen here, Hazel. _Everyone _leaves their mark, and I believe your friend Augustus left his mark right here." He reached across the table and tapped my forearm.

I stared up at him, willing the tears not to spill from my eyes.

"But," I whispered. "I haven't got long to live, either. Phalanxifor - that's the drug I'm on - it's going to stop working one of these days. And then - then I'll fade into oblivion too. Where will his mark be then, Doctor?"

The Doctor drew in a deep sigh. "I lost a friend, too, Hazel Grace. I lost two friends, actually. And that was just recently. I've lost many, many more."

I waited. He was speaking to his hands now, fisted up on the handle of the mug.

"I like what you said, Hazel Grace. It was a privilege to love them."

"Tell me about them," I whispered.

His hands quivered, but he shook his bowed head.

"Why not?"  
The Doctor paused, still concentrating on his half-full mug of tea, steam wafting from the surface in dancing, gossamer ringlets.

"She chose him," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"  
"I don't know if I can do what I used to do anymore." And then his hands were smothering his face, hiding, I was sure, fresh tears. "Not without them."

I could feel something inside me tearing up; I wanted to comfort him, help him, like the night Augustus was at the gas station, trying to buy cigarettes, drowning in his own vomit.

"Tell me," the Doctor said quietly, "you favorite memory of Augustus."

I pondered for a moment. "I dunno if this is the best one," I replied. "But the one that comes to mind is when we were in Amsterdam. We were at the Anne Frank house, and I had to climb so many stairs, and I couldn't breathe very well," I tapped Philip the oxygen tank for emphasis. "I thought everyone was getting annoyed with me. But before we left, Augustus and I - we had our first kiss there, in Anne Frank's house, and I thought everyone was going to be furious, but everyone there clapped. And it was pretty much amazing, because I'm sure that Anne would have wanted something like that to happen in her house. You know?"

The Doctor looked me right in the eye now, and I could make out the dried tear trails gleaming on his face. He nodded, slowly.

"Can I ask you something?" I spoke up tentatively.

He nodded a bit more vigorously. "Go on."

"Sorry, but - how did you end in my backyard?"  
"Accident."

"Accident? Where are you from? England?" I asked, noting his accent.

He shook his head. "No, no, somewhere much further away."

I raised my eyebrows. "That phone box-"

"Police box, for starters."

"Police box, then. Is that yours?"

"Why, yes, it's mine. And I should be getting back."

"But you never told me about your friends."

He took a long drag of his tea, and when he looked back up, shadows flickered across his face, giving him the impression of being twenty years older. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but his eyes looked darker, sunken in like caverns into his face.

"And I'm not going to. Well, I'd best be off. Thank you, Hazel Grace. It's been a pleasure." He brought his cup to the sink, patted my shoulder, and made for the door.

"Wait - no!" I bolted up, giving a bit of a shock to my system, but I grabbed Philip and half-dazed, hurried after him in the wavering darkness of my backyard.

He wasn't running, though. Panting heavily, I caught up with him at the door of the police box. He gave me a serious gaze, and then began, "Look. Amelia Pond." He spit out the name like it was physically painful to say. "Feisty Scottish ginger. And her husband, Rory. I thought he was a bit of a dunderhead at first but he was a great guy. They were both brilliant, lovely people. Just like you, Hazel Grace."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, still trying to catch my breath.

"They stepped into this TARDIS with me, and we went on never-ending adventures together-" he smiled his first genuine smile at this point, a bit goofy like Augustus's, one side of his mouth cutting into his cheek, but it quickly vanished, "-at least, I thought they were never going to end. I knew they would, but I let myself forget that fact. And you know where they are now? Gone.I can _never _see them again. No one else is ever stepping in here but me from now on. Off you go, Hazel Grace. Thank you for the tea."

I shook my head. "No, Doctor. Don't go alone. You can't deal with it. I don't know what happened, but you're not going to make it alone. That much is obvious."

My lungs were still knocked out from the brief jog, trying to suck in as much air as possible, when all of a sudden I felt a twisting, searing pain in my chest. I collapsed onto the damp grass, sputtering, gasping, probably screaming.

I felt the Doctor scoop me up into his arms and heard the creak of the door of the police box opening. I barely registered that it was _bigger on the inside - _icy and teal and alien-looking - before a new color, black, began to blanket my eyesight, and I fell out of consciousness.


End file.
